


there is nothing on earth that we share

by brodinsons (aeon_entwined)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 07:17:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeon_entwined/pseuds/brodinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filling a <b><a href="http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/9761.html?thread=945697#t945697">prompt</a></b> on the kinkmeme:</p><p> <i>I just want fic (or art?) in which the two of them are kissing each other breathless. Porn? Not necessary, but certainly welcome.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	there is nothing on earth that we share

**Author's Note:**

> wow sorry this is terrible I'll just .. see myself out

Valjean brandishes his knife, then cuts through the ropes binding Javert's wrists together. His expression belies nothing, but his hands visibly shake.

"Why?" Javert demands.

"Because petty revenge is worth nothing," Valjean snaps in reply, his grip now tightening on the pistol in his hand. "Go."

Javert stands, making no move to flee or contest Valjean's order.

"I said go!" Valjean cries, stepping forward and making to strike the inspector. When his lacking threat results in no reaction from Javert, he grabs the man's sodden tunic in a fist and drags him close, shaking him violently. " _Go!_ "

The sudden clash of their mouths is perhaps not entirely unexpected. 

Valjean inhales sharply, but he parts his lips at the urgent press of Javert's tongue regardless. He releases his hold on Javert's tunic, moving instead to clutch the man's short hair in one broad hand. It slips between his fingers like silk, making him wonder what if would feel like if Javert were to wear his hair longer.

They're both dirtied and bloodied, but Valjean cannot think of a more fitting place for them to finally come together like this.

It is somewhat inevitable, he muses as they press closer still, this confrontation. They were always headed down this path. Perhaps the outcome is somewhat different than what either of them imagined, but it isn't so very far-fetched.

Javert's hands are curled over his nape, fingers tight in his hair. He seems reluctant to let go, though Valjean cannot begrudge him that. He feels a sudden flare of greed and drags Javert those last few inches to press them flush together, still devouring each other's mouths.

They both gasp simultaneously at the rigid press of the other's arousal, but they don't stop. They cannot. Javert's fingertips drag roughly over the skin at the back of his neck, eliciting a shudder down the length of his spine.

Valjean coaxes Javert's tongue between his lips, then _sucks_ greedily, swallowing the choked moan that spills forth from Javert's lips. The man's hands spasm against the back of his neck, then clutch at his shoulders, struggling to draw him closer still.

_Oh, here is one I could love._

The revelation is enough to drag him back to the harsh reality of their circumstance, though the truth of it clenches around his heart like a vise. Valjean chokes back tears as they are finally forced to part for air.

The hand still gripping the pistol hangs limp at his side, the other rests against Javert's bearded cheek, the pad of his thumb beneath the inspector's eye. They pant softly in the dark alley, refusing to move apart just yet.

"You have to go," he forces his voice to remain steady, though the hands curling against the crown of his head nearly melt every ounce of his resolve. "Javert, please ... go."

Valjean closes his eyes as Javert pulls him in again, unable to watch lest he abandon everything he came here tonight to accomplish. 

This kiss is different. 

Despite the heat that flares between them whenever they touch, Javert keeps the press of their lips curiously chaste. Valjean would mourn the loss of their previous embrace if he could allow himself to.

He opens his eyes just as Javert pulls away. Their gazes meet, and Valjean thinks that perhaps he has vastly misjudged this man's capacity for gentleness. Perhaps they have vastly misjudged each other.

Valjean swallows with difficulty, then raises his pistol, aiming it far to the left of Javert's skull. 

_Go_ , he mouths, breathing a sigh of relief when the inspector turns and runs, disappearing down the alley. 

He pulls the trigger and the bullet smashes into the brick wall, plaster flying everywhere. 

The last he sees of Javert is a lingering backwards glance from the very end of the alley. They watch each other for a moment, and then Javert is gone.

Valjean knows he should feel relieved, that he has done the right thing, but it feels as though there is a hand clenched around his heart. He spared Javert, but he has as good as damned them both.

+++

What leads him to the Seine after the fall of the barricade, he will never know. But when Valjean spies the lone figure poised at the very edge of the bridge, he pauses.

The shoulders look familiar, as does the profile and the rich tailoring of the uniform-

Valjean's heart stops.

" _NO!_ "

He lunges forward, sprinting the length of the bridge faster than he ever thought possible.

It takes scarce moments to sling his arms around the man's waist and drag him off the ledge, sending them both crashing to the hard cobbled ground. He takes the worst of it, with Javert's weight coming down atop him, but he has suffered worse.

"Release me!" Javert's voice cracks sharply, and Valjean merely tightens his hold, refusing to let go even as Javert struggles.

They grapple with one another, Javert's attempts to wrest himself free growing weaker by the second. Finally, he goes limp, hands falling from the iron bar of Valjean's arm across his chest.

Valjean immediately curls against Javert's back, seeking to provide some measure of comfort for the stricken man as Javert's shoulders begin to tremble.

A sob tears itself from Javert's throat, and Valjean merely holds him closer, pressing his lips to the skin just beneath the inspector's jaw. "Hush, Javert," he whispers, tightening his arms again as Javert shudders at the gesture. "Please."

"You would deny me even this," Javert chokes out, though one hand moves to clutch at Valjean's wrist, holding onto it as if it were an anchor in a storm.

Valjean shakes his head, tucking close to the crook of Javert's neck and breathing in the scent of him. "If it makes me covetous to refuse to let you go, then so be it."

Javert bites down on another sob that threatens to spill forth and Valjean clutches him tighter. He focuses on the rapid beat of Javert's heart that he can feel through the fabric of his uniform and tries not to think of how very close he came to losing this man.

"Look at me," he demands quietly, gratified when Javert slowly turns his head to meet his gaze.

Valjean brings their lips together in a mirror of the kiss they shared behind the barricade, soft and immeasurably chaste. He tries to pour everything of himself into the gesture, tries to communicate everything he could not when there was a pistol in his hand and an army prepared to run them down.

Javert goes pliant against him, pressing up into the kiss as it shifts from chaste to something decidedly not.

They part moments later, panting shallowly and clutching each other like lifelines.

"We should go," Valjean murmurs against Javert's shoulder, relaxing even further as Javert's fingers twine with his over the inspector's chest.

Silence reigns as they slowly regain their breath, the adrenaline fading and leaving their multitudes of aches and bruises in its wake.

"As you wish," Javert replies, quiet and devoid of anger.

Perhaps this is what true peace is.


End file.
